Sunday, November 4, 2018

Sunday Snippets: Fibrous Connections

--I wrote another poem this morning and figured out how to make my poem about voting stronger. I feel a sense of gratitude that may be out of proportion. In the times when I'm not writing poems, I worry that my muse has gone off to find someone who will tend to her inspirations more faithfully. What if I never write a poem again?

--One of my Facebook friends posted pictures of letters and chalked graffiti that greeted Jews at her synagogue. Unlike some stories that made the national news, these messages were ones of hope and support, not hate.

--I went to a reunion yesterday afternoon--not a high school reunion, but a reunion of all of us who had been at the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale. It was unlike a high school reunion or a college Homecoming week-end, in that I remembered almost everyone who was there. It was like those events in that I felt a bit overwhelmed by all the people and the noise. It was hard to hold a conversation. It was hard to make a deep connection.

--As I drove home yesterday evening, I saw people lined up to vote. Today is the last day of early voting. I've never seen this level of interest in an off-term election. Regardless of the results, I'm happy to see this level of interest. It makes me feel hopeful about the future. The U.S. is a fibrous construction of humanity, and I have faith and hope that while we are a bit unraveled, we're far from ripped.

--I began the week-end by going to vote. I will end the week-end as I usually do, by going to church. I will be fed in ways that I expect and in ways I won't even realize until later. These week-end bookends make me feel better about the future of the country. If I spent the week-end inside, watching the various news shows and/or the unavoidable political commercials, which will be the lot of many of us this week-end, I'd have a very different view of the nation.

--A week ago, I got a phone call from my sister. I feel like many of our phone conversations have started this way: "Mom isn't dead, but . . . " I also realize that these phone conversations are not the grim ones we will likely have eventually.

--Last week, I learned that my mother had had a heart incident on a plane in Spain. Luckily the plane hadn't taken off yet. She has spent the week in a hospital in Spain. At one point, we thought she would need stents put in. But the doctors couldn't find any blockage. So, they released her, and now they are on my side of the Atlantic. It's been a long journey home for them. I'm relieved.

--I do wonder what this coming week will bring. But let me rest a bit in the good news of this past week. Let me enjoy this snippets of hope.

Follow by Email

About Me

A poet, a scholar, an administrator, a wanna-be mystic--always wrestling with the temptation to run away to join an intentional community--but would it be contemplative? social justice oriented? creative? in the mountains? in the inner city?--may as well stay planted and wrestle with these tensions and contradictions here, at the edge of America.